Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own, etc...

Summary: See previous chapters

Chapter Twelve

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not used to questioning his own judgement.

He had been wrong about Miss Elizabeth - unquestionably wrong, in more ways than one - and her younger sisters. Their parents, he withheld judgement on, but Mrs Bennet's furious defence of her daughters was to be admired, regardless of her manners the rest of the time. It was possible that he had mistaken Miss Bennet, too.

He had not seen any particular regard that would indicate an attachment to Bingley, beyond the smiles and kindness she offered to everyone, but after what he had told the Bennet sisters of Bingley's tendency to attract supernatural trouble, it was possible that she was merely being wary. All those dedicated to fighting Evil had been somewhat preoccupied with other matters, and past experience may have made Miss Bennet wary of raising expectations. That was the kind of steadfast sense Bingley could do with more of.

Darcy was known to keep his own counsel before speaking decisively, but now, with his dearest friend looking at him so earnestly, he hesitated. Realising that Bingley was taking his silence as condemnation, he quickly gathered his thoughts. "I confess, I was paying Miss Bennet little attention-"

Bingley's anxious frown melted briefly into a broad grin, ready to tease, and Darcy hurried to continue before the man could make a pointed - and more accurate than Darcy wanted to admit - observation. "You may save your satisfaction, I have already heard it. Miss Bennet is reserved, and as part of the foremost family of the area, she must be wary of raising hopes. I saw no great preference on her part toward you, but you have known each other little more than a month, and I was not looking at her overmuch."

Miss Bingley's smug expression had changed to quiet dismay as he spoke. Doubtless she had been counting on his support - or at least his usual disdain for the company of strangers - and his neutrality had thrown her. She burst forth in indignation. "How can you say so? They have no fashion, no manners, and you shall find us forced to support the entire family when Mr Bennet dies! I shall not have it!"

Mrs Hurst was nodding vigorously in support, though when she spoke, her tone was gentler. "Miss Bennet is the best of her family, Charles, but Father's dream was for us to advance, not to stagnate."

Miss Bennet was a Gentleman's daughter, and if she was not as wealthy as the Bingleys, she still outranked them by any measure one cared to use. Now was probably not the time to point that out. It was a difficult thing to go against one's family, Darcy knew, but sometimes it was necessary. "You have Netherfield for a year, Bingley, and you are in no hurry to marry."

Hopefully Bingley's luck with survivng Malevolent and Cursed estates, against all odds, held strong. If it did, Netherfield would be clensed permanently, and Darcy's visit would be rather more peaceful. "Spend the time learning about Miss Bennet and allowing her to know you. Then you can part ways, or propose, as you see fit."

Miss Bingley could not have appeared more enraged if Bingley had told her that he would no longer pay her bills when she overspent her allowance. A glance out the window showed a sky darkening more rapidly than could be natural. Botheration!

How to get Bingley and Mrs Hurst out of the line of fire? "I believe you mentioned a shareholder's meeting in London, and the Hursts planning to visit family over the New Year?"

Bingley sighed, "Yes, I should deal with those arrangements now, or at least start on them before Miss Bennet and her sisters arrive for tea."

If the Bennet daughters were seeing the same signs Darcy was, they would arrive a great deal sooner than tea-time. Miss Bingley looked, if possible, even more upset. "Should you not have told me that? The day after a ball is for resting, at least among the ashionable of the Ton, not visiting."

Bingley's expression of mild surprise did nothing to diffuse the smouldering volcano that was his sister. "I mentioned it twice over breakfast, Caroline, and asked a maid to remind you. Besides, I have already extended the invitation."

Mrs Hurst sighed, "I suppose, but why all of them? Are we to expect Mrs Bennet, too?"

Bingley frowned briefly at her. "Miss Mary is coming as a Chaperone for her older sisters, and I wished for Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia's opinions on the ball. It was the first one I have hosted, after all, and as they are so fond of Balls, I should enjoy hearing if they liked this one."

The invitation to the younger sisters had been Darcy's doing, professing himself far too partial a judge on the subject. Whimsical they might be, but both had conducted themselves admirably, and if the Bennets had a mentor or needed one assigned, Miss Lydia was the most likely to own to it.

Besides, they had lived in the area all their lives, and if Netherfield had a weakness to be exploited, they would know it. Additionally, it was spectacularly bad form for a visitor to the area to combat a local problem without being invited to participate by the local guardians. That was why the Bureau in London tried so hard to keep records of what Gifted were involved and where, despite the difficulty of doing so.

Before, Darcy might have claimed ignorance. Now, he would have to hope that the sisters were merciful in regards to his lack of opportunity to formally request permission. He doubted that they would, but Cousin Anne, who viewed her ability to make people see what they wanted to see as a mild inconvenience rather than the Duty it was, still hadn't forgiven him or Fitzwilliam for driving out a leshii that had been giving the Rosings Gamekeeper trouble last year.

Pray, let Jasper arrive soon! Quite aside from the earnest desire not to fight alone, Darcy would need his help in charming any ruffled feathers.

Bingley departed in the direction of his study, over his sisters' continued objections. Darcy left as if to follow him, but ducked into an empty parlour. The air was heavy and oppressive, and it would not be long before something gave. A quick glance around to ensure that the door was shut and no stray servants were present, and he uttered his own transformation phrase.

Ugh, was there no way for the transformation to be a little more discreet? The grand display of lights and faint hints of distant trumpets was entirely un-necessary, and quite counterproductive toward keeping one's identity a secret! One might think that the famed Northern Lights had been transported from the Nordic countries to this small room in Hertfordshore!

Miss Elizabeth would laugh merrily to hear the comparison, if he had the chance to repeat it to her.

A sound like a small detonation, the sort miners used to clear firedamp, came from the ladies' sitting room, swiftly followed by a scream from Mrs Hurst, abruptly cut off. Hopefully she had fainted, rather than being harmed. Miss Bingley was unlikely to lash out at her sister, but Netherfield was another matter entirely...

A similar detonation came from the direction of Bingley's study, and Darcy swore, vividly and at length. The odds had just changed from an even match, to Darcy being decidedly outnumbered. Bingley was good with a sword, and the manor had entirely too many of them decorating nearly every room. Pray that none of the blades were also cursed...

There was no time for wishing the world different. The Master's Study was on the other side of the house. There was a chance that he could defeat Miss Bingley, before he had to do battle with his best friend.

Mrs Hurst had swooned across the couch she had been seated on, but it was Miss Bingley who held his attention now.

Her blue eyes had turned pitch black, whites and irises eclipsed by darkness. The orange morning dress had changed to the colour of blood, and when she spoke, there was an odd duality to her voice, something old and evil speaking through her. "More meddlers? Kill him, my Vessel, before those wretched girls arrive!"

A blade of shadow and darkness materialised in Miss Bingley's grasp, and she lunged at him with deadly intent. Clearly, she had never held so much as a fencing foil in her life, much less the longsword she gripped now, but Netherfield would compensate for that. Darcy blocked her on instinct, shifting his stance and grip as his own sword changed to match.

There were decided advantages to magical weapons, even if it disguised itself as a pen-knife when not activated. At least it was not a broadsword. Heavy, cumbersome things, and it was entirely too easy to be mistaken for a Scotsman when wielding one.

(That had been a harrowing visit to Kelso and Ednam House, when Bingley had wanted to show Darcy the area he had grown up in. Darcy had complained to his Uncle Matlock about the law permitting the shooting of a Scotsman, as long as he was armed, without even bothering to check that the man was actually Scottish. Apparently, it was one of those laws that was still legal because no one had bothered to repeal it, and the malevolent spirit making life difficult at Ednam had nearly exorcised itself laughing at him as Darcy was forced to dodge an angry mob.)

Fortunately, Miss Bingley's sweeping day dress may have changed in colour, but not in its impractical sweeping train or draping volume. As long as Darcy was quick on his feet and continued moving, Netherfield had to remain cautious of tripping over Miss Bingley's dress.

All Darcy had to do was hold out until help arrived.

It was a lovely day for late Autumn, crisp and clear, and Lydia had been invigorated by last night's dancing. The horses were needed on the farm, so it was no hardship to take a leisurely walk into Meryton before they were expected at Netherfield for tea. A few officers called out to her, inviting conversation, and Lydia deferred them with a pretty smile and the excuse of a prior commitment.

Mr Collins was helpfully distracted by Charlotte Lucas, who had been more than happy to re-direct his matrimonial attentions to herself after Mama had proclaimed him unfit for her daughters at the Ball last night. Well, that got him out of the way, and hopefully out of Longbourn altogether. The thought was enough to make Lydia hum happily and even skip a little as they turned onto the road toward Netherfield.

Abruptly, Darkness bloomed like an ink-stain on white muslin, invisible to non-magical eyes, but unmistakable to Lydia's sight. Hopefully the malevolent, triumphant laughter, like the booming of a thunderstorm, was also only selectively-audible to mortal ears.

The sisters immediately broke into a sprint, waiting only for a well-wooded section of the road before they transformed. A faint scream could be heard, and they ran faster.

If he hadn't been far too aware of otherworldly powers who would have his words as an invitiation, Fitzwilliam would have questioned what else could possibly go wrong in the course of delaying their arrival into Meryton. First it had been an overturned farmer's cart in Bloomsbury, forcing them to take another route out of the city. Then, one of the horses had thrown a shoe, thankfully close enough to a post station that Fitzwilliam could ride back and swap horses, leaving a groom to see to the process of having the horse re-shod.

Now, not even a mile out of Meryton, a dairy cart and a tradesman's wagon had encountered each other rounding a corner, in such a way that they could not easily pass, and neither were willing - or perhaps lacked the manpower - to back up and give way.

In the distance, Darkness surged in a billowing cloud, not unlike the drawings he had seen of a volcanic eruption. He could not leave Georgiana, but neither could he abandon Darcy to fight alone! The carriage door opened and Georgiana sstepped down, doing her sweet best to mimic Aunt Catherine's displeased scowl. "Go, Cousin Jasper. I'll handle this."

Fitzwilliam did not waste time asking if she was certain, but spurred his horse on, turning off the main road in favour of galloping cross-country on the most direct route to Netherfeld.

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A/N: Please feel free to scream at or curse me in the review box down below...

One more chapter before I take a break to get a head-start on book 2, but if you're starved for content in the meantime, I've added some links in my profile, including a pre-order link to the finished, edited and expanded version of this link, and my other Jane Austen novellas.

Thanks,

Nat